


Just A Cup of Coffee

by Mathissi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Human AU, M/M, Teen Wolf, beacon hills is normal, coffee shop AU, no werewolves au, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 07:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4295634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mathissi/pseuds/Mathissi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one shot about a Beacon Hills coffee shop, its owner, and the writer who just seems to need a caffeine fix.</p><p>ALSO!!! Thank you all for reading!!! I'm so encouraged by your kudos and comments!! Thank you thank you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Cup of Coffee

“You will not believe what the hell happened like two hours ago to me.” Danny leaned across the counter to get closer to Stiles so that the customers in the shop couldn’t hear him. Stiles rolled his eyes at Danny, wondering what ridiculous event had happened. He gave Danny a look that said ‘go on’ before he too a slurping sip of his coffee from the white porcelain mug.

“So I’ve fallen completely in love with one of our customers. He’s Mr. Tall-Dark-n-Handsome. Like almost literally, ugh, so good.” Stiles took another drag from his mug, still giving a sceptical look to Danny. The coffee was oily, earthy, and blacker than the darkest parts of Stiles’ heart; in other words, it tasted exactly how coffee should. Stiles sighed, realizing this was another one of Danny’s fantasies (one that would probably never come true). He took another sip, letting the warm liquid swirl around his mouth with a wet, sloppy sound that he hoped was only audible in his own head.

“Anyway,” Danny continued, “So his deliciousness came into the store about an hour ago, and he ordered a latte - I mean, that’s my favorite drink! It is meant to be, ya know. And so I made it for him and there was hella eye contact - but like… eye contact - and it was so good. Ugh, why weren’t you here?”

Stiles instantly responded to the comment with the instantaneous sarcasm he’d always used, “Because I love sleep more than you.” He flashed a cheesy smile before taking the half-drunk coffee to the back room with him. Stiles felt as though he should reprimand Danny for flirting with customers, but it probably earned him half the store’s tips, so Stiles chose to keep his mouth shut. It was all innocent, all in good fun.

Finishing his coffee by opening up his throat and letting the liquid slide down, he set to his work, using the computer in the back to fill in the schedule for the week after next. He kept having to refer to his old schedule so that he could remember not to schedule anyone for the exact same schedule as the week before. Also, having Matt in Cabo on vacation was really putting a damper on his day.

After his first hour of working on the logistics of the business, Stiles decided to make sure Danny didn’t need him on the floor. He threw on an apron and walked out the the front of the store, behind the counter, where he noticed Danny chatting with a customer. They looked as though they were in the middle of a deep and interesting conversation, so Stiles decided to just brew some coffee and avoid the awkward interruption into their conversation.

Stiles checked on the drive thru, noticing they were a bit busy, Lydia making the drinks with her perfect cleanliness and fiery red hair flying around behind her. Isaac was at the window, chatting with a customer about her beagle, forgetting that he had a drink to hand out the window. Stiles rolled his eyes for a moment, knowing he could trust Lydia to reprimand Isaac if it got to be too long of a conversation. He decided to throw on a headset in case they needed his help, causing him to look for the spare headset.

Looking around, he saw it hanging off of Danny’s neck, so he walked over and plucked it off of Danny. The other boy didn’t seem too disturbed by the interruption to his conversation and continued on talking. Stiles didn’t even register who he was talking to, because he just didn’t care enough. He put the headset on, keeping the orders through the drivethru in the back of his mind while he counted their pastries and decided how many he would need to order from the bakery tonight for the next day. It seemed like the croissants and cinnamon buns were popular this week, and he could see that people had been trying to order them ahead. He’d send a message to Allison asking for an increase in those for tomorrow.

He drifted into the back again, still with the headset connected so he could run out to help in case of emergency, but started to work on the order to Allison’s Bakery so he could get it to her before she started her night baking. After about fifteen more minutes, Danny came to the back, hollering, “Stiiiiiiiiiilleeeeesssss!”

Stiles jumped, turning around and pulling the headset off his head, “What’s wrong?” It was a natural assumption from him, but whatever, Danny wouldn’t be too offended.

“Did you not see him?”

“What?” Stiles had expected an actual problem, but this seemed a bit out of the blue.

Danny rolled his eyes at Stiles, looking utterly exasperated. “How did you not notices him!? He was delectable! Not my type, but delicious at all costs!”

“Wait… he came back in to see you?” Stiles raised an eyebrow, disbelieving to a certain extent. He tried to piece his memory back together so that he could place the man’s face, but he couldn’t quite manage to put a face. He just remembered masculine hands around a latte cup. Then again, Stiles hadn’t really been looking, and he didn’t make a habit of sexualizing his customers.

“Well, he came back for more coffee, at least that was his reason. And so we started chatting about the coffee and I told him all about the coffee we source and how it was roasted and where we buy and all the growing processes…”

“Mhmm.” Stiles wasn’t fooled by Danny’s distraction back to his ‘job’, but he really didn’t care that Danny had chatted about nothing for a while. Hopefully it would result in a new regular. And apparently he was a great guy, so he couldn’t complain. (Nice regulars were one of Stiles’ five favorite things, right behind curly fries.)

“...and then he started talking about how he’s been looking for a good coffee shop since he moved back to Beacon Hills and he said that Allison (of all people, right?!) had told him that he should come here. And he loved my coffee - who doesn’t? - and said he really wanted that extra boost of caffeine today. I can’t believe you didn’t look at him!”

“Danny, I don’t sexualize customers.” Which wasn’t all true, but it was mostly true, enough so that he could say the above with a clear conscience.

“Psh,” Danny waved a hand in Stiles’ direction as he headed back toward the front of the shop to help Lydia with whatever project they were currently working on, “well, Derek will be back, so be nice to him when he does!”

“I don’t even know what he looks like?!”

“Well, be nice to everyone who is unbearably hot.” Danny chuckled, “I really should just give out life advice for money! I’m just so right about these things!”

Stiles shook his head, amazed that he had ever hired Danny and that it had actually worked out. Who was he kidding? He loved Danny and he couldn’t imagine working without him.

  


It took two days before Danny came rushing into the back room while Stiles was eating his lunch. “Stiles! He’s here!!!!” Danny gave him a face that showed pure, childish glee and then rushed back out so he didn’t miss a moment of Derek-time. Stiles blinked and continued eating his sandwich, making sure he took his full lunch - no customers, no work.

By the time he made it out to the cafe again, Danny told him he had, yet again, missed Derek’s visit. “I’ll get there,” was Stiles’ only response. All Danny could give him was a look of sheer disappointment and a fine tuned set of sarcastic glances.

  


Saturdays were always unpredictable for Stiles. So he always left himself available for work, then took Sundays off to be with his dad. This was one of those Saturdays. He had no desire to run a coffee shop on days like this. He didn’t understand why the entirety of Beacon Hills felt the need to come get coffee at his coffee shop. I mean, there was a Starbucks about a mile away. Why him? In his mind, he knew his coffee was much better, but he really didn’t have the resources for all of the town. He even had to make an emergency call to Allison for more pastries (he had run out by eight in the morning).

By two in the afternoon he’d seen almost everyone he knew in the town and his cafe was filled with people, seated in the kind embrace of books and overstuffed armchairs under the overprotective aura of low lighting. Stiles found himself staring down the clock, willing it (with no luck) to move faster. He knew that once it hit three in the afternoon he would be able to slip away, at least to the back room, if not home to his couch.

Sighing, he resigned himself to brew coffee. He chose a darker roast to brew for the last hour of his shift, a blend of Asia-Pacific and African coffees that wasn’t as dark as a French but had the low level acidity and spiciness of Asia while adding an almost floral quality. It was one of the few bags he’d blended himself when he had taken a turn at combining the coffees he sourced. If he was honest with himself, this was really the only mix that had produced a semi-successful blend that could be served in his shop.

He ground enough of the beans for a full urn, knowing that some of the coffee-goers would be coming back for refills on their drinks before the batch could fully brew. He tied the bag up and stored it in the cabinet before brushing a hand through his hair. I need a haircut too, he thought with another exhausted sigh.

“One of those days, huh?” A voice from behind him said. Stiles spun around and slipped on stray coffee grounds mixed with water (pretty much it was coffee-mud), causing him to fall to the ground. His hand flew out and caught the counter, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from hitting the floor in an embarrassingly obvious way. Stiles muttered a few curses as he got to his feet and turned to look across the counter. Behind him he could hear Scott snickering and he reminded to kick his best friend in the shin before the day was done; the man across the counter was snickering as well, an uncouth smirk pasted across his face like a child pasting macaroni on paper.

“What can I get for you?” Stiles pursed his lips as he spoke, willing his sassy comments to fade into the back of his mind before he ripped this customer a new asshole with his words.

Still chuckling, the man responded, “Just a latte please.”

At least he said please, Stiles thought before pulling two cups from below the counter. He was sure that his embarrassment and annoyance with his fall was transferring into the transaction. “Twelve or sixteen ounces?”

“Twelve please.” The man spoke quickly, as though he refused to mince words and waste time. Fine by me, Stiles thought, his mind bringing back the sound of that almost cruel snicker from before.

“Great, that’ll be three fifty.” Stiles spoke equally as curtly, trying to pass the drink of to Isaac at the bar and end this transaction.

As the man handed over a five dollar bill in cash, he spoke, “Are you new here?”

If Stiles’ jaw hadn’t been set in concrete, his mouth would have fallen open. This bitch, he thought, how dare he? Stiles could have thrown a mug across the counter at that smug face. Handing over the change to the man, he spoke, “Actually, I own the shop.” Stiles’ tone made it very clear that the transaction was over.

Stiles huffed as the man moved away to wait for his latte. He occupied himself with the pastries, rearranging them to make sure they all looked edible and appealing. So what if he stole half of a berry danish. They were his to steal. Sue him. With half the danish still slightly dangling from his mouth, he heard Danny cry out from the drive thru.

“Oh my lordy, Derek, how are you?!” It was at least a half octave higher than Danny usually spoke and it made Stiles’ feel a bit sick. It felt so wrong to hear him speak with such sickly sweet sounds. Almost instinctively, Stiles whipped his head around to look for Derek. Of fucking course, he thought, that’s who Danny’s all on about?

Stiles understood it from an aesthetic view. Upon closer inspection and customer sexualization, he realized how straight up sexy this man was. His clothes were so tight they practically were painted onto his body and they highlighted his perfectly toned muscles with ease. He had piercing green eyes, dark almost black hair and just the right amount of scruff on his face to make someone moan…. UM NO. DO NOT SEXUALIZE CUSTOMERS, STILES!

Stiles glared at nothing in particular thinking, Are you fucking kidding me? But before he could delve too deeply into his mind, the door to the cafe swung open and Stiles instinctively turned his head to look. “Dad!”

The sheriff walked through the door followed by Deputy Parrish, they were both smiling and seemed to be in good spirits, which was refreshing for Stiles to see. There had been a string of murders in the town over, but now that the criminal had been caught, it relieved so much stress off their backs. “What’re we having, gentlemen?”

“Mornin’ Stiles,” his father said, doing that half smile he always seemed to give Stiles when he was doing something endearing.

“Hi Stiles, how’s it going?” Parrish beamed in a cheerful manner.

“Jordan, I’m alright, yourself?”

“Can’t complain. Could I get a sixteen ounce latte to go please?”

“You betcha!” Stiles pulled the cup out and wrote a note to Jordan on the cup telling him to watch the sheriff’s back or he would only get decaf for the rest of his life. “Dad?”

“Let’s just have a drip to go… uh, sixteen ounces I guess?”

“Room for cream?”

“Just a little bit.”

“Yep!” Stiles turned around and busied himself getting the coffee. He turned back around and saw his father trying to hand over a credit card, but Stiles scowled. “You know law enforcement and emergency services don’t pay here.”

“Can’t a father give his son money?” The sheriff said with a Stilinski eye roll and a sigh. This was a constant conversation they seemed to have. Stiles glared back defiantly until his father raised his hands in defeat while dropping a five dollar bill into the tip jar.

“Thanks, dad.” Stiles smiled a bit as Isaac brought over the latte for Jordan. “You too, Jordan.”

As they walked out of the shop, smiling still, Stiles waved and they gave a genial wave. Stiles realized how much he had been working, and how much he had really needed to see those friendly faces. It was so refreshing to feel appreciated for what he did. Stiles breathed, allowing his father’s presence to sustain him through the rest of his shift. Yet, only about ten minutes had passed.

After about another twenty minutes of standing and arranging pastries, (He really needed to stop eating pastries, but he really needed to put the blame on those damned Argent family recipes. The french and their pastries...) Stiles found Derek was back at the counter. Stiles grumbled to himself before pulling his head away from the pastries. “Somethin’ else?”

“Can I just get a drip, please?” Derek said in meek tones, as though he realized he’d stepped in deep shit with the manager of his allegedly-favorite coffee house. Yeah, you better fucking be polite. Stiles isn’t a bitter person at all. Not at all. Ah fuck, I’m hella bitter.

Stiles pulled off the disposable gloves he’d been wearing to keep his hands from touching the food, and threw them in the trash before walking over to the counter and swapping Derek’s cup for a fresh one from below the counter. He turned around and filled the mug almost to the point of spilling the coffee on the countertop. “Here you go. First refill ‘s free.”

“Thank you.” Derek smiled and moved back to wherever he had been lurking before. Stiles turned back to the pastries even though he knew there was little to no arranging he could still do.

Stiles turned back to the counter hoping for an obvious task to perform. All he found was a twenty dollar bill sitting in the empty tip jar.

  


Contrary to popular will, Stiles chose to close the coffee shop on Sundays. He believed firmly in the idea of having actual time off, and he wanted people to be able to live their lives. Of course, if someone wanted hours, he could have them pull a cleaning shift on a sunday, but he knew all his workers were satisfied with their hours and wages. Sundays made the six day work weeks manageable. He also finally was able to spend time with his father, something he relished more and more as he aged.

  


But of course, Sundays have to come to their end. And then there’s Monday. Bright and early at six on Monday morning, Stiles walked into the store and saw that the early risers had already taken their seats. In the back corner, he could see a dark head of hair atop rippling muscles looking down at a computer screen. What the hell is he doing here already?

Throughout the morning, Derek made his way up to the counter for different variations on the basic drinks - drips, lattes, americanos, and once a cappuccino. He always said his ‘please’ and ‘thank you’s’ and always showed the respect. And each day, just before Stiles’ shift ended, Derek would pack his computer in a messenger bag and leave with a smile, a wave, and maybe a kind word or two before leaving no mess to remind anyone he had spent eight hours in one spot.

Tuesday was the same. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday all the exact same. And each day, Stiles found a twenty in the tip jar. Stiles felt a little pang of guilt every time he saw that ominous bill in the tip jar. Slowly, he started to realize that Derek was all that Danny had said: kind, interesting, polite (and hot as hell, not that he would ever admit to that).

The next Saturday was right before the memorial day holidays and half of the Beacon Hill inhabitants had gone to visit family with the little break they received. Stiles knew he and his dad were spending Sunday together but that the sheriff had to work on the Monday of the holiday weekend. Stiles had given the Monday and Tuesday off to his workers so they could be there for the potential Saturday traffic. He slightly regretted that choice when he found himself bored and wiping down all the empty tables.

There really was only one occupied table in the cafe. Most people passed through the drive thru and went on to their holiday plans, and almost no one had come into the lobby since the end of their minor morning rush. Derek was sitting in his usual corner, his computer open and his mug filled with lukewarm coffee (a blonde roast sourced from South America).

“No family in town?” Stiles asked as he wiped crumbs from a neighboring table. Derek started, looking up at Stiles with his deep green eyes in surprise. While his eyes were beautiful, Stiles couldn’t help but notice the tired circles that rested in crescents below the green irises.

“Uh…” he breathed in and blinked a few times, “no family. I’m working all weekend anyway, so they’d just say I was boring.”

“Working? What sort of job makes you work on the holiday?” Stiles said, realizing his own father had to work that day, then feeling stupid.

“Well, my manuscript’s due in less than a week and I’m way far behind on it.”

“Manuscript?” Stiles was momentarily confused before Derek began to enlighten him.

“I’m an author, and my publisher wants my next book - or as much as I have - by Friday. At the start of the week I had almost nothing.”

“Really?” Stiles had never pegged Derek as a Hemingway type, but it suddenly seemed to explain all the unbuttoned Henleys he work. “What’re you writing about?”

“Well, I’m writing a little story about a guy (similar to myself) who finds himself trying to figure out how to ask the cute barista behind the counter - the one who slipped and fell on his ass at first sight - to go on a date with him.”

Stiles flushed, feeling his cheeks turn red and his heart skip a few beats. From behind the counter, he could feel Danny’s eyes on him and he could picture the faux-shocked expression he knew was carved on his face. “And h-how does it end?”

“Well, I don’t know. That’s really up to you isn’t it?”

“I guess it is.” Stiles paused before grinning widely, “Well, how about we go out for a cup of coffee sometime?”

  



End file.
